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A TALE OF THE LOWER RIO GRAND! 



1 



St 

EDMUND LINDEN, ' . i i 

* 4 • 1*1 4 








1920 

Theodore kunzman, printer 

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS 










A TALE OF THE LOWER RIO GRANDE 


By EDMUND LINDEN. 

/i 



19 2 0 

THEODORE KUNZMAN, PRINTER 
SAN ANTONIO. TEXAS 




COPYRIGHTED 1920 BY DON ALFONSO BLISS 


OCT 25 1320 

©CLA601010 

y * s# § \ 






SOFIA 


A TALE OF THE LOWER RIO GRANDE. 


(By EDMUND LINDEN.) 

Prior to the construction of the St. Louis, Brownsville & 
Mexico Railroad to the city of Brownsville, that portion of 
the State of Texas bordering on the lower Rio Grande River, 
though within the jurisdiction of Texas, was essentially Mex- 
ican in character. The few Americans found there hardly 
gave a flavor to the general population. Indeed, the most of 
the Americans had not only adopted the customs of the na- 
tive Mexicans, but had imbibed even their modes of thought 
and action. The drinking of coffee at all hours of the day 
and the taking of the noon siesta were practiced by all; and 
the “manana” disposition, which never does today what can 
be put off till tomorrow, pervaded all alike. The social and 
moral, standards were essentially the same. In a word, the 
native Mexican race had absorbed the few Americans just 
as the Southern peoples of Europe have always absorbed the 
successive waves of Teutonic invaders that have swept over 
them within historic times. 

Those that believe with Buckle that physical environment 
has all to do with the formation of the character of a people 
would find some support for their view in this country of 
the lower Rio Grande. The low almost flat country next to 
the coast is, in soil and growth, precisely like that in Mexico 
on the other side of the river. Stretches of dense growth of 
cactus and “chapparal.” (thickets of thorny bushes) inter- 
spersed with occasional small prairies are everywhere. The 
timber consists mainly of mesquite with scattered huisache, 
ebony trees and “palo bianco.” The nutritious mesquit grass 
covered the land at that time, and made it the home of the 
stock raiser, while the exceedingly short rainfall prevented 
the pursuit of agriculture. Only small patches on the low 
grounds next to the river were ever cultivated, and these 
were tilled in the very crudest manner with sticks and 


wooden plows. Yet the exceeding fertility of the soil, coupled 
with sub-irrigation from the percolating waters of the river, 
produced sufficient crops of maize and “frijole” beans to en- 
able the “pelados” and their families to live without any ser- 
ious exertion. The mild climate dispensed with any necessity 
of much clothing. Employment by the stock-raiser was al- 
ways ready at hand if the “pelado” needed money to buy 
clothes or “dulces” or to play “Monte.” The climate is one 
of the healthiest in the world, centenarians being quite com- 
mon among the native Mexicans. So, why should the “pela- 
do” worry about the future or worry about anything? Social 
problems never occurred to his mind. The Roman Catholic 
faith was to him rather a matter of habit than of convic- 
tion, yet he would as soon have thought of questioning his 
own existence as of questioning any of the tenets of his 
church. He might laugh at the irregularities of some of the 
priests in their private lives, but they were to him veritable 
vicegerents of heaven in the exercise of their calling. 

Withal, there was an easy tolerance of conduct that can 
hardly be conceived among the Anglo-Saxon race. The rich 
stock-raiser was regarded as being specially privileged. In- 
deed, the “hacendados,” as they were called, were expected 
to indulge in gallantries among the female, dependents upon 
their estates; and the pretty “muchacha” that was favored 
with the attentions of one of these was regarded as lucky 
rather than otherwise. It meant fine clothes and diversions 
for her and an easy time for her family. If the usual result 
should occur in the course of nature, it did not follow that 
the girl would become an outcast and the child a thing of 
shame. On the contrary, the woman, as a rule, would be 
cared for in such a way as to become a desirable match in 
marriage to some man in her own class; and the child 
would usually be recognized and become a member of his 
father’s family. Frequently the devout wife of a rich ranch 
proprietor would insist upon his performing his duty toward 
his irregular offspring. 

The “rancho,” the headquarters of the stock-raiser, con- 
sisted of his residence usually constructed of stone plastered 
on the outside and roofed with a thatch of “carrizo” cane, 
a number of huts called “jacales” constructed of interwoven 
twigs plastered with mud and covered with the same kind 
of thatch, and a number of “corrales,” pens for stock. The 
“jacales” were without floors, and served as homes for the 
employes on the ranch. 


5 — 


Such were the country and the people when Alexander Mc- 
Donald came there from Virginia in the early seventies, to 
seek his fortune. Of an aristocratic family, though much 
reduced in financial circumstances by the result of the Civil 
War, he was college bred and had been furnished by his 
widowed mother with a little capital. His ancestry from the 
Western coast of Scotland, where the Scots are mixed with 
Danish blood and average the tallest men in the world, gave 
him his six feet two inches in statute, a lithe sinewy frame, 
black hair, a reddish beard, dark hazel eyes and a fair com- 
plexion. Though he had been trained a rigid Calvinist, his 
associations at college had liberalized his views to a great ex- 
tent; and, when he came to the Rio Grande country, he con- 
sidered himself a man of the world who had no mission to 
reconcile the doctrine of free will with the dogma of pre- 
destination. He came to the country to realize, if possible, 
a dream of resuscitating the family fortune, of returning to 
Virginia there to marry a woman of his own class, who had 
already been selected for him by his mother and sisters, and 
settle down and enjoy a plantation life just as his ancestors 
had done in the old days. He proposed to make everything 
subservient to this dream, and he did. Gifted with good 
practical sense and a bon-hommie born of a naturally good 
heart, he was soon on the high road to success, and was 
generally popular among the stock men. His ranch, pur- 
chased of a Mexican “hacendado,” though precisely like the 
others in physical aspects, was very different in many re- 
spects. With executive ability of a high order, and with 
some knowledge of the laws of health, his ranch soon be- 
came a model of order and cleanliness. He quickly acquired 
a practical knowledge of the Spanish language, a business 
necessity in that country in that day. Honest to the core 
and with a kindly heart, his business dealing with the native 
Mexicans soon acquired for him their unbounded confidence; 
and none of them would make a trade with any stranger 
without first consulting don Alejandro as they called him. 
He experienced a change of view with reference to the Mex- 
ican character. He came to the country with the common be- 
lief that they were treacherous and cruel; but, on actual 
contact, he found them a kindly docile race, and their child- 
like faith in him touched him. 

But a stay in the country with his associations had the 
same effect on him in the long run that it had on other 
Americans. Matters, which at first shocked his moral sense, 


he soon grew to tolerate, and later they seemed a matter of 
course. The fact that so many of the stock-raisers, his com- 
panions in the “roundups,” some of them married men, had 
mistresses among the Mexicans and had children by them, 
ceased to give him a second thought. Wrong it was true, 
and a connection that he never thought of forming himself, 
yet since these women were well treated and their children 
cared for and seemed happy in their relations, why should any- 
one care? 

While at Brownsville one day, a business acquaintance en- 
quired of him whether he needed a housekeeper, suggesting 
that on old Mexican woman and her granddaughter in desti- 
tute circumstances were anxious to secure such an employ- 
ment. It so happened that the Mexican family that had prev- 
iously looked after his household affairs had moved back to 
Mexico a few days before. The acquaintance sent for the 
parties mentioned; and presented them to McDonald as 
sehora Sofronia Martinez and her granddaughter, Sofia Villa- 
real. The old woman appeared to be over fifty years of age, 
was decidely of the Indian type with high cheek bones and 
piercing black eyes, but had a pleasing countenance. The 
beauty of the granddaughter was striking. Though she was 
apparently not over fourteen years of age and her figure im- 
mature, long braids of glossy jet black hair falling down her 
back, a full forehead neither too high nor too low, her face 
a perfect oval, eye-brows that might have been pencilled by 
an artist, long lashes shading dark eyes of wondrous softness 
and beauty, rosy lips and a complexion in which the rose 
just peeped through the olive disclosed to his eyes that al- 
most perfect type of Castilian beauty of which he had often 
read but which he had never actually seen before. While 
their clothes were made of the cheapest material, yet they 
were neat and clean. The old woman wore sandals, but the 
girl’s feet were guiltless of either shoes or stockings. Neither 
could speak a word of English. The grandmother stated that 
her daughter had died while the granddaughter was an in- 
fant leaving it to her charge. McDonald noticed that no 
mention was made of the father and drew the natural in- 
ference. 

Pleased with their appearance, he engaged them at once 
at a salary named by him that drew forth warm expressions 
of gratitude from the old woman, who had been always ac- 
customed to the extremely meager wages paid for such ser- 
vices in Mexico. 


— 7 — 


If he was pleased with their appearence on first sight, he 
was more than pleased when experience proved how faithful 
they were in the discharge of their duties. The old woman 
was an adept in the preparation of Mexican dishes, such as 
enchiladas, blanquillas rancheras, and the like, but he had 
to teach her how to broil a steak and to make biscuit. Keep- 
ing the house in order was the girl’s part of the work, and 
she did this to perfection. She seemed to never tire of scrub- 
bing, sweeping and dusting. The sheets, pillow cases and 
table cloths were kept spotlessly white, and every time he 
took a meal at the ranch house, a bouquet of flowers graced 
the table. The furniture, as might be expected in a bachelor 
ranchman’s quarters, was somewhat scanty, but he had some 
books and bric-a-brac such as a single man of literary and 
artistic taste will gradually accumulate. These, it was her 
delight to arrange. A curtain to a window had hitherto 
been unknown in the house, but somehow this article devel- 
oped, of cheap muslin, it is true, but flounced and em- 
broidered and looped with bits of bright colored ribbon. This 
and her fondness for pictures showed the artistic tempera- 
ment characteristic of the Latin race. 

Discovering that she was never tired of looking at the 
illustrations in his books and periodicals, it occurred to Mc- 
Donald that it would be a pleasant diversion to teach her 
English during his leisure moments, and he suggested it to 
her. His offer was received with enthusiasm, and no teacher 
ever had a more apt pupil. Though she was ignorant of a 
letter in any language at the beginning, he found that she 
had intellectual ability of a high order; and her progress 
astonished him. She was soon able to read any of his books 
whether in the English tongue or the Spanish, and the neat- 
ness and smoothness of her handwriting were a marvel. But 
it was practically impossible for her to acquire the short 
sounds in English of the letters, a, i and u. Man, uttered 
by her, was always mahn, this, thees, and but, boot. How- 
ever, her soft melodious voice gave the words an indescrib- 
able piquancy that was highly pleasing to him. The vagaries 
of English orthography too were puzzling to her, and, at 
times, she seemed to almost despair of ever surmounting the 
difficulties. Just before starting on a trip to market some of 
his cattle, he furnished her with a copy of Webster’s old 
blue-backed spelling book, and told her that, whenever she 
was able to spell all the words in that book correctly, he 
would consider that she had mastered English orthography. 


8 — 


On his return to the ranch after a month’s absence, he 
found that she made not a single mistake in spelling upon 
his testing her. The deepened rose tint on her brunette 
cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes spoke her deep appre : 
elation of the compliment he paid her. When he furnished 
her with some drawing books and pencils, he discovered her 
special talent. These were her delight, and the correctness 
and spirit with which she was soon able to sketch the nat- 
ural objects around her surprised him. While he knew that 
she had a voice of singular sweetness and power, she had 
never attempted to sing in his presence. But, on one occa- 
sion, he came in while she was humming the plaintive air of 
rS La Golondrina” over her work. She stopped suddenly upon 
seeing him, and a rosy flush spread over her face. That 
evening after supper, when he, she and her grandmother 
were seated in the open before the door of the ranch house, 
as was the custom, he requested her to sing the song for 
him, assuring her that he considered the song a very sweet 
one. She complied with his request at once; and, though her 
voice was low and tremulous from embarrassment at the be- 
ginning, it gathered strength and volume as she progressed 
with the song and made him feel to the depth of his soul 
the pathos and the despairing yearning of the banished Moor 
to return to his loved native Granada. At his request, she 
then sang the Mexican song, “La Paloma”; and her voice 
fairly soared. She seemed utterly unconscious of the raciness 
of some of the words of the song. After this, it was the 
custom for her to sing for him after the evening meal when he 
was at the ranch house; and he wondered how she had ac- 
quired such an extensive repertoire of Spanish songs. He had 
always been fond of the melodies that he had heard in Vir- 
ginia from his boyhood days, and remembered the words of 
a number of them. All that he had to do was to hum or 
whistle the air of any of them, then furnish her the words. 
She caught them at once, and her rendition of the “Old Ken- 
tucky Home,” the “Suwanee River,” “Old Black Joe,” “Annie 
Laurie” and “Coming Through the Rye” was sweeter than 
any he had ever heard. 

He found too that she had independence of thought and a 
high spirit. Her wonderful eyes moistened at the relation of 
any generous disinterested deed and flashed with indignation 
at any tale of injustice and cruelty. She and her grand- 
mother both were sympathetic to a high degree. Both were 
untiring in ministering to any one sick on the ranch, and 


— 9 -» 


they acquired the warm affection of all the “pelados” and 
their families. 

Though, when they first came to the ranch, neither wore 
shoes or stockings during the warm season, the girl some- 
how learned that among the senor’s people, it was not con- 
sidered the proper thing for a girl of her age to go bare- 
footed. She sent by the next wagon to Brownsville for those 
articles; and, from that time on, neither she nor her grand- 
mother ever appeared in his presence without them, though 
it must be confessed that the old woman, usually so com- 
plaisant, protested vigorously when the matter was first 
broached to her by Sofia. 

As time went on, McDonald found himself indulging in 
pleasant anticipations whenever he began his return to the 
ranch from any trip away. The ranch house began to seem 
a home to him instead of a mere camping place as it always 
seemed before. 

Two years slipped by, and, before McDonald realized it, 
Sofia had developed into a gloriously beautiful woman. 
While, as before stated he had to a great extent imbibed the 
sentiments and views of his associates in the country, he was 
still at the core a Southern gentlemen. Invariably courteous 
and gentle with all women and generous, it never occurred 
to him once that his association with Sofia might arouse in 
her any feeling except that of mere friendship and goodwill. 
The difference of ten years in their ages alone made him 
regard her as a mere child. In making presents to her and 
her grandmother, he was prompted merely by his natural 
kindness of heart and disposition to give pleasure to others. 
He did the same for all his dependents on the ranch, and 
had thus won the affection of them all. Had he suspected 
any danger, he would have taken precautions against it. But 
he did not. It is true that he observed that, whenever he re- 
turned to the ranch after any prolonged stay away, she dis- 
played unaffected joy; but so did the grandmother and every 
one else on the ranch. He had never spent a moment with 
her except in the presence of her grandmother; and their 
conversations were always in the Spanish language, except 
while he was teaching her English and practicing her in that 
language. 

It first dawned upon him that there might be danger in 
their association when he went with her and her grand- 
mother to a “baile” in the vicinity. The “baile”, or dance, 


is always conducted in the open and at night. A space of 
ground is cleared and swept for the dancers with rough 
board seats around and usually a stand where lemonade and 
“dulces,” sweets, are vended to those desiring refreshment 
during the entertainment. The scene is lighted with torches. 
The ranch owners are expected to take part, and all that are 
not too old to enjoy dancing do so as a rule. And it must be 
said that no more graceful dancers can be found on waxed 
floors in ball rooms richly furnished and glittering with elec- 
tric or gas lights than the Mexican senoritas on the bare 
ground in the dim torch light. 

Among the dancers on the occasion referred to there was 
none that danced with more grace, spirit and abandon than 
senorita Carmen Perez, a dark beauty of voluptuous form, 
who was the belle of the country. After dancing with Sofia, 
McDonald, in response to a coquettish challenge made with 
the fan, danced with the senorita Carmen. They made a 
striking couple. McDonald was a handsome man, and the 
contrast between his stature and that of the diminutive 
rotund Mexican beauty, rendering it necessary for him to 
stoop while dancing with her, attracted the eyes of all. Evi* 
dently the Mexican belle was proud of her partner, for, com 
trary to the custom, she indicated that she desired him to 
repeat with her the very next dance. In this, she showed 
more abandon than in the first, throwing back her head, 
looking up into his eyes and at times leaning her weight on 
his arm making him almost lift her from her feet in the 
swaying motion. 

Later in the evening, when McDonald invited Sofia to 
dance with him again, much to his surprise, she at first re- 
fused, pleading a headache, but almost immediately as he 
was turning away, she expressed a change of mind, saying 
that she would be pleased to dance with him. As they began 
to whirl in the mazes of the waltz, he noticed that her eyes 
sparkled and that she seemed excited. She was much taller 
than the senorita Carmen and of a much more queenly type 
of beauty. He did not have to stoop in dancing with her. 
He noticed an entirely different manner in her dancing. In- 
stead of keeping herself at a distance, so to speak, as she 
had done before, she clung to him, and, if anything, danced 
with more abandon that even the senorita Carmen. Upon the 
close of the dance, she expressed a desire to return home on 
account of her headache. On the road she had hardly a word 
to say. 


—11 


Though she appeared the next morning at the breakfast 
table, and poured the coffee as usual, she seemed downcast, 
and had little to say. Only once did she rouse herself, and 
that was, when he referred to the senorita Carmen. Then 
her eyes flashed, and she spoke of her with bitterness and 
scorn as a heartless coquette, who desired to attract men 
merely to gratify her vanity. This, at first amazed him, for 
he had never heard her speak ill of anyone before. Then, 
though he had no more vanity than the average man, it oc- 
curred to him that she was jealous of the attentions he had 
paid to the little Mexican beauty. Jealousy implied that an- 
other feeling might exist, and he determined to keep it down. 
Accordingly that evening when she, her grandmother and he 
were seated in the open before the door of the ranch house, 
he took pains to detail the cause of his coming to the Rio 
Grande country, spoke of his plan to rehabilitate the family 
fortunes and of then returning and settling down on the old 
plantation in Virginia; and even went so far as to refer to 
the fact that his mother and sisters had already selected a 
lady in his old neighborhood to be his wife. Observing her 
closely, he noticed that she became tense in her attitude and 
that her hands clinched the arms of the chair in which she 
sat. She remained silent, though the grandmother asked a 
number of questions about the people of Virginia and their 
customs. The next morning at the breakfast table, Sofia 
seemed more downcast than ever, scarcely spoke a word, and 
her eyes, usually so expressive, had an almost stony look. 

These things put McDonald on his guard. He had not the 
remotest intention of settling in that country permanently, 
and, while he liked Sofia, the idea of his falling in love with 
a Mexican girl was preposterous. He regarded himself as a 
gentlemen, and really felt at the time that he would be the 
last man in the world to take advantage of an innocent girl. 
He determined to avoid in the future any intimate associa- 
tion with her. He had business that took him away from the 
ranch for some weeks; and, on his return, though she met 
him with joy shining in her eyes, he did not practice that 
evening the custom of taking his seat with her and her 
grandmother in the open after supper; but busied himself in 
his own room writing. Nor did he linger long the next morn- 
ing chatting at the breakfast table, though Sofia was unusu- 
ally vivacious. After he had pursued this course for a few 
days, he noticed that she was again downcast and had a look 
of trouble in her eyes. This touched him, and he could not 


12 - 


forbear suggesting to her at the supper table that evening 
that he would like to hear her sing again. The glad look 
that came into her eyes made him regret his invitation. 
There was a deeper pathos in her voice than ever as she 
sang the old songs that night; and he noticed that the grand- 
mother did not join them as she had invariably done before. 
Indeed, it is the rule with Mexicans that a girl never talks 
with a man save in the presence of some member of her 
family. After singing for awhile, she abruptly spoke to him 
in a tremulous voice: “Don Alejandro, have I or my grand- 
mother done anything or said anything to displease you?” 
“Certainly not,” he replied, “why do you ask?” “Your manner of 
late,” she said, “has made me fear that we had displeased 
you. And oh, senor, we would rather please you than any 
one else in the world; you have been so kind and gentle with 
us, and oh so generous when we had no other friends.” Her 
voice choked at this moment, and her eyes filled with tears. 
Deeply moved, he assured her in his gentlest tone that he 
had no fault to find with her or her grandmother, and es- 
teemed himself fortunate in securing their services; that they 
had more than repaid him for anything that he had done for 
them by their faithfulness and attention. With burning eyes 
fixed on his, she said: “What is it, don Alejandro, that at- 
tracts you to Carmen Perez?” Surprised, he answered: “I am 
not attracted by her at all; and care nothing for her.” A 
joyous light came into her eyes; and, to his embarrassment, 
she seized his hand and kissed it. “Oh don Alejandro, how 
glad I am;” she exclaimed passionately, “she is a heartless 
coquette and cares for no one except herself.” He then re- 
peated to her that he was a mere sojourner in the land and 
that, as soon as he made enough money to justify it, he in- 
tended to return to Virginia, marry and settle down. Her 
eyes again put on a troubled look; and she enquired: “When 
do you expect to return, senor?” We will be very lonely 
when our best friend leaves us.” “It will not be for years 
yet,” he replied. The glad light reappeared in her wondrous 
eyes at this. “I am so glad” she said, “Grandmother and I 
will do all we can to make your life pleasant as long as you 
stay here. We feel so grateful to you.” 

The indications were unmistakable, and McDonald was 
troubled. He determined to do all he could to prevent the 
further growth of a passion that was now so plainly appar- 
ent. Pie avoided any talk with her alone when he could do 
so without wounding her feelings; and his talk with her and 
her grandmother was always on general subjects. He also 


— 13 — 


took pains to have some of his young associates, both Amer- 
icans and Mexicans, to visit his ranch house and have a 
merry time, hoping to divert her mind from a hopeless pas- 
sion. But his efforts were all in vain. Sofia showed that 
she cared for no one but him; and this was so marked as to 
excite the attention of his visitors. Some of them took oc- 
casion to rally him about the matter, suggesting that he take 
advantage of the situation and use the goods the gods pro- 
vided. This suggestion was met by McDonald with such a 
stern rebuff that it was never repeated by the same person. 
Sofia, instead of taking the hint from his conduct, took ad- 
vantage of every occasion of talking with him alone. It 
seemed too that she had an understanding with her grand- 
mother to keep out of the way, for the grandmother was 
always contriving some excuse for leaving them alone to- 
gether when he was at the ranch house. 

It would, no doubt, be nice for the narrator to be able to 
state that the nobility of McDonald’s character was such as 
to be proof against taking advantage of the thoughless pas- 
sion of a young and hitherto innocent girl. The author, how- 
ever, is sorry to have to record the fact that McDonald was 
not a hero, but was simply a man of flesh and blood and of 
very red blood at that. But the justice must be done him to 
say that he let her understand that, while he liked her, he 
could never marry her, but must some day leave the country 
and probably never see her again. It would also be fine to 
paint Sofia as an angel of purity consumed by a hopeless pas- 
sion. But it must be confessed that she was merely a child 
of nature. McDonald was the one man she wanted in all the 
world, and, if she could not get him for all time, she was 
willing to take what she could get. At the same time, she 
never thought of any mercenary advantage. She, like most 
Mexicans in her situation, lived for the present, and took no 
thought for the future. Those disposed to judge her harshly 
should take into consideration the fact that she knew that 
she herself was a child of love as well as her mother and her 
grandmother before her. The safeguard of pride, so powerful 
a protector of virtue in many instances, was entirely lacking 
in her case. Her grandmother doted on her, and always 
worked to gratify her every desire. Previous to their em- 
ployment by McDonald, they had lived in abject poverty, fre- 
quently lacking the ordinary necessities of life; and their 
associations had been among a rough ignorant class. In the 
person of McDonald, she associated for the first time in her 


14 - 


life with a gentleman. His gentle courteous treatment of her 
and her grandmother charmed her, and his unvarying kind- 
ness and generosity had won her affection long before this 
feeling had kindled into passionate love. He had first awak- 
ened in her a thirst for knowledge; and he had been the 
agency of developing her understanding, naturally of a high 
order. When she compared him with others with whom she 
came in daily contact, he seemed a demigod in her eyes. 
And the experience at the “baile” was the spark that lit the 
conflagration. She then became conscious that the world 
would be dreary waste to her without him. She had nothing 
with which to win him save her beauty, a bright mind and a 
loving heart. She unconsciously began to use these weapons, 
and the final result could be foreseen. 

Before a year had passed, her condition became apparent 
to all that saw her. Sofia had never been taught the arts 
of prevention that keep down the growth of families, which 
are now practiced so much by people of the so-called better 
class; and the murder of the unborn by abortion would have 
horrified her had the thought of such a thing ever oc- 
curred to her. But it did not. There was not even a vestige 
of shame in her as to her condition. Rather she gloried to 
herself in the fact that the child within her was the child of 
the man she loved. She fondly hoped that it might prove to 
be a tie that would bind him to her. It is true that he 
warned her beforehand that their relations could be only 
temporary and that she could never be his wife. She had 
the man she loved for the present, and this was enough for 
her. Why should she gather trouble and sorrow from the 
future? 

McDonald’s conscience, which was not altogether dead, 
gave him many pangs. But he salved it with the reflection 
that he had simply followed the custom of the country, that 
he had yielded to her rather than she to him, and that her 
condition would be no worse than it would have been any 
way had he never taken advantage of her love for him. He 
reflected that she would have fallen a victim to some other 
man had he possessed the strength of character to resist her 
charms. And he fully intended to make provision for her. 
The terrible injustice of bringing a child into the world to 
be handicapped through life with the stigma of illegitimacy 
never occurred to him. 

It so happened that he was away from the ranch when the 
child came, and did not return until two weeks after the 


— 15 - 


event. When he came to the bedside and kissed her, Sofia, 
with a wonderous light in her eyes, placed the baby in his 
arms, saying in Spanish: “Loved one, it is our son. Is he not 
pretty?" When seated with the mite of humanity in his 
arms, McDonald felt that strange yearning sensation that 
only a father feels. Then the injustice to this little helpless 
being first struck him, and he commenced outlining plans in 
his mind to remedy the injustice. He would give him a good 
education, provide him with a good start in life and devise 
means to conceal his illegitimate birth. At the same time, a 
profound pity welled in his soul for the mother, beautiful 
though wan and weak, who gazed upon him and the baby 
from the bed with such fond eyes. This gave his tone an 
additional touch of gentleness and affection as he laid the 
mite by her side. The glory shone in her eyes as he did 
this, and she said: “We will name our little one Alexander 
for his father." “No," he replied hastily, “it will be better to 
name him Juan. I will explain why at some other time." He 
had it in mind to make the boy a Mexican citizen, thinking 
that his illegitimacy would be less a clog to him in life in 
Mexico than in the United States. 

Never did a little one have more loving attentions than 
this one. The old grandmother was, if anything, more de- 
voted to it than Sofia. McDonald, though at first somewhat 
embarassed and ashamed, soon seemed to never grow tired of 
having it in his arms while lie wais about the ranch house; 
and the strange yearning sensation frequently struck him 
when he felt the little one nestle its soft cheek to his own. 
Especially was this the case one day when, for the first 
time, it looked up into his face and smiled as if in recogni- 
tion. Unconsciously the deep love of a father was wakening 
in his soul. As for Sofia, her face was transfigured with a 
light almost divine when she watched him fondle the child. 
After she was strong enough to go about the house, she 
would frequently gaze at them for a moment with rapture 
then throw her arms about both with tears in her eyes mur- 
muring in her soft melodious Spanish: “My loved ones; I am 
so happy." In such moments she felt that the father loved 
the child, and would never leave her. 

Fourteen months passed and there was another child, this 
time a daughter, whom they named Sofia for the mother. 
McDonald was a very busy man, and his affairs were pros- 
pering. His conscience had long since ceased to torment him. 
Indeed, he was now gratified when his male acquaintances 


congratulated him on having so beautiful a woman and such 
lovely children. Yet, while he had an affection for the 
mother and the children, he had not changed his plans. He 
still expected to return to Virginia and make his permanent 
home there. The thought of marrying Sofia and legitimating 
his children, when it occurred to him, was dismissed at once 
as impossible. How could he, a member of an old Virginia 
family, face his proud relatives and acquaintances with a 
Mexican wife, who had borne him children out of wedlock. 
He had matured his schemes of doing right by them, how- 
ever, according to the standard of right prevalent in the 
country. He never realized the strength of Sofia’s love or 
that his abandonment of her would wreck her life. Nor did 
he realize that all the material provision in the world can- 
not take the place of a father’s personal care and attention 
for his children. 

He had never made a visit back to Virginia though his 
mother and his sisters were continually urging him to do so 
in their letters. Finally, when the second child was a year 
old, he concluded to make the visit. Sofia burst into tears 
when informed of his intention, but was consoled upon being 
assured by him that he would be gone for a short time only 
and that he owed the visit as a duty to his mother. The 
journey, though requiring considerable time at that day, in- 
volving, as it did, a voyage by sea from Brazos Santiago to 
New Orleans and thence by railroad to his old home in Vir- 
ginia, was rather enjoyed by him. Indeed, the sight of the 
green summits of the Blue Ridge mountains as he neared his 
old home gave him a thrill of joy. He thought that there 
was no country on earth so beautiful. And, indeed, it would 
be difficult to find a more picturesque country than the Pied- 
mont region in Virginia. The contrast between it and the 
dreary sameness of cactus and chapparal on the lower Rio 
Grande to which he had been so long accustomed intensified 
his delight in being once more in the country where he had 
spent his boyhood days. 

It goes without saying that his stay at his old home was 
most enjoyable. As is usual with mothers with only sons, he 
was the favorite child. His mother and sisters were proud of 
the tall handsome man browned by a residence for years in 
what they regarded as a semi-tropical country. All his old 
friends and acquaintances vied with each other in trying to 
give him a good time. Though it was in the eariy fall season, 
there was a continued round of parties and dinners given in 


his honor. At these functions, he was the cynosure of all eyes; 
and his commanding figure, dark brown eyes and conversa- 
tional gifts justified the attentions he received. Many a proud 
Virginia beauty, as she cast her looks upon him, could not but 
admit in her secret soul that she might risk life in a semi- 
barbarous country with so distinguished a looking man by her 
side. As for McDonald, the change from associates with no 
culture or refinement, who never discussed any subject save 
cattle, the state of the grass and events happenings in their 
immediate locality, to a cultivated society to whom the class- 
ics, modern literature, art and music were familiar subjects 
was a delightful experience. He felt that he was in his true 
element, and, though he frequently thought of Sofia and the 
children, it appeared that the life he had led on the Rio 
Grande was away back in the past, almost a dream. His stay 
was prolonged to three months instead of one as he had origi- 
nally intended. Sofia, in accordance with instructions, con- 
sulted with his foreman on the ranch, and kept him posted as 
to affairs there; and nothing occurred demanding his personal 
attention on the ground. 

He had met again with Helen Montague, whom he had 

known from childhood and who was the one selected by his 

mother and sister for his future wife. She was only three 

years younger than he and was a perfect blonde. Well formed, 

tall, queenly in her manner, intelligent, well educated and 

spirited, she was easily the belle of that section. Her family 

was among the oldest and most aristocratic in the country. 

Mutual friends, knowing the desire of McDonald’s mother and 

* 

sisters, were continually throwing them together. At every 
dinner, he was expected to take her out, and at every dance 
she was his first partner. McDonald was pleased with her, 
and it was evident that she was not averse to him. Her usual 
coldness and haughtiness relaxed in his presence, and her blue 
eyes, ordinarily steely in their look, had a soft light when they 
met his. Matters progressed rapidly, and it was soon announ- 
ced that they were engaged. Of course, no rumor had ever 
reached that country of McDonald’s relations with a Mexican 
girl on the distant Rio Grande. A genuine hero would never 
have engaged himself to a proud unsuspecting woman with- 
out a confession of his shortcomings. But, as before stated, he 
was not a hero; and he trusted to good fortune and manage- 
ment to keep the truth concealed. As for Sofia, who was 
awaiting his return with such anxious heart, he fully believed 
that the munificent provision he would make for her and the 
children would finally console her. At the same time, he 


could not help dreading the florin he knew she would raise 
as soon as she heard of his intention. But he hoped that it 
would be like those physical storms that prevail in portions 
of her native land, of tremendous force while lasting, but of 
very short duration. 

Before he began his return journey, it had been definitely 
arranged that he should close out his ranch business in Texas, 
return to Virginia, marry and settle down on the old planta- 
tion at the end of a year. Miss Montague preferred Richmond 
for a residence as she was very fond of society. But, owing to 
the fact that McDonald had never fitted himself for any voca- 
tion other than that of a farmer or stockraiser, she yielded 
this' point. 

A complication arose almost on the eve of his departure. 
Mrs. McDonald announced a desire to make a visit to his 
ranch and to spend the winter with him there. This was the 
last thing that McDonald desired as it would necessarily result 
in her finding out his relations with Sofia. So, he heaped up 
difficulties in the way to such an extent that she finally re- 
luctantly gave way. 

He stayed two weeks in New Orleans and spent a week in 
Brownsville on his return journey. While at the latter place, 
he crossed over the river into Matamoros, which was then a 
city having sixty thousand inhabitants, not yet having lost all 
the prosperity it had acquired as the only cotton port for the 
South during the Civil War in the United States. While in 
Matamoros, he purchased and had conveyed to Sofia a good 
residence in the best quarter of the city, having her styled a 
widow in the conveyance. He intended to place at interest for 
the support of her and the children a sufficient amount out of 
the proceeds of his ranch and cattle when disposed of to main- 
tain them in comfort. 

No one can picture the transport of joy with which he was 
received on his arrival at the ranch by the unsuspecting Sofia. 
He had notified her of the date when she might expect him; 
and she wore the dress that he had told her best became her. 
The children were also dressed with exquisite taste. Her glor- 
ious beauty struck McDonald with more force than ever, and 
he could not help contrasting in his own mind her beauty in- 
stinct with life and feeling with the cold lifeless perfection of 
Helen Montague. His conscience gave him a harder twinge 
than ever before when she threw her arms about his neck 
weeping and murmuring words of passionate endearment. And 
he felt himself to be a traitor indeed as she placed successively 


- 19 - 


in his arms the little Juan and Sofia. He returned her caresses, 
for he could not find it in his heart to damp her joy at the 

time. During the evening meal, at which every dish for which 
he had ever expressed a fondness appeared, Sofia displayed 
even unusual animation, keeping up a running fire of ques- 
tions as to the events of his trip and stay and surprising him 
at times by her sensible and spirited comments on his replies. 
Through it all there was a ring of exultant joy that cut him to 
the soul as he thought of the disclosure he had to make. After 
the children had been put to bed and she, her grandmother 
and he were seated in the open, she asked him whether he de- 
sired her to sing; and, upon receiving an affirmative answer, 
she began with the plantation melodies he had taught her and 
wound up with a plaintive Spanish love song. Her voice be- 
came tremulous during the singing of this last song, and 
finally broke down from emotion. “Oh my dear one," she 
exclaimed in Spanish, “my heart is too full of joy to sing 
more. You are now with me once more.” McDonald was deep- 
ly moved, but a sense <of duty to his promised bride in Vir- 
ginia as well as to Sofia herself prompted him to let her 
know at once that their former relations could not be re- 
sumed. So, he requested the old woman to retire as he desired 
to have a talk with Sofia alone. He then broke to her as 
gently and considerately as he could the killing news. At 
first she could not utter a word, her breath came in gasps. Mc- 
Donald expected an outburst of grief, but he had never con- 
ceived of dumb suffering such as this. His heart bled for her, 
and he would have freely given all he possessed never to have 
taken advantage of her love for him. He felt utterly abased 
and contemptible. He tried to console her by picturing to her 
the fine home he had already purchased for her in Matamoros 
and by telling her of the ample provision he would make for 
her and the children. But he might as well have talked to a 
deaf person. She sat still and tense staring at him with stony 
eyes. Finally he called her attention to the fact, that he had 
told her at the beginning that he could never marry her. She 
seemed to wake up at this, and said: “Senor, I do not ask you 
to marry me. I have never expected it; but oh senor, for the 
love of God, do not forsake me.” “Why Sofia,” he replied, 
“you have known all along that I did not intend to spend my 
life in this country and that I intended to return to Virginia. 
I cannot take you there. Your life could not bear it. But my 
duty to my promised wife would not allow me to take you 
with me.” At the mention of his promised wife, Sofia started 


to her feet with the inarticulate cry of an animal. Then stretch- 
ing out her arms with hands clinched and her eyes blazing, 
she cried: “The woman that has stolen you from me; I could 
kill her.” Then dropping back into her seat, she wailed: 
“Senor, do you love her?” The question took him aback. He 
admired Miss Montague, was flattered by her preference for 
him and believed that she was in every way suited to him; 
but he could not say that he loved her. So, he answered; “We 
like each other, and our families desire the marriage.” “Senor, 
come with me,” she said, leaping to her feet and seizing his 
hand with a convulsive grasp. He passively followed the woe- 
stricken woman, and she led him to the bedside of their chil- 
dren. “Senor,” she exclaimed, pointing at the little ones, 
“will you abandon them to marry a woman you do not love? 
They are our children. Do you love them even if you do not 
love me? Can you pay them for the loss of their father?” A 
lamp on a table at the head of the bed shed its soft radiance 
over the faces of the little sleepers. Juan had one small arm 
twined about the neck of his baby sister, and the lips of both 
were slightly parted as if smiling in their sleep. The yearn- 
ing sensation again struck McDonald as he gazed upon their 
angelic faces. And when Sofia threw herself on her knees by 
the bedside in a passionate fit of weeping, crying: “My poor 
little innocents, your father is going to forsake us; let us die,” 
this cry of a mother for her children gave him a galvanic 
shock. Then for the first time, he felt the same yearning sen- 
sation for her that he had so frequently felt for the children. 
All thought of his plans in life, of the proud beauty m Virginia, 
even of his mother and sisters was gone. He thought only of 
the helpless babes before him and of the woman that loved 
him kneeling there with her face hidden in the bedclothing 
sobbing in utter abandonment of grief. He felt an ineffable 
glow tingle through his body. The little ones had waked with 
wide wondering eyes, and began to cry in sympathy with 
their mother. He gathered the quivering form of Sofia in his 
strong arms, turned her tear-stained face to his and kissed 
her passionately, and, with a voice almost as broken as her 
own, said: “Do not cry any more. I will not forsake you.” 
Sofia’s tears had been flowing before, but, at these words, the 
fountains seemed to break into a flood. She could not speak; 
but the pressure of her arms about his neck and of her face 
to his spoke more than words. 

There were two sleepless ones at the ranch that night. 
Sofia was too unstrung to sleep; and McDonald walked the 


— 21 — 


floor of his room meditating. As he walked back and forth, 
the glow he had felt at the bedside continued. He became 
conscious that love had awakened in his soul; and it was a 
strong man’s love, a mighty love that cries out for the woman 
desired no matter what she is nor what she has done, and 
that sweeps away everything selfish or sordid in one’s nature. 
Though he believed that his promise not to forsake Sofia in- 
volved the wreck of all his most cherished plans and his 
rirtual banishment from his native state and an estrangement 
from his relatives and friends there, he never faltered. Sofia 
had become to him the one woman in the world. His resolu- 
tion was taken long before dawn. 

Sofia appeared the next morning at the breakfast table with 
a happy light in her eyes, though looking somewhat worn. 
McDonald kissed her, and her eyes shone brighter. The old 
grandmother too seemed light of heart. No doubt, Sofia had 
told her the good news. Upon rising from the table, McDonald 
said to Sofia: “I must go to Brownsville, and will be gone two 
weeks. I hope to never again give you any cause for sorrow. 
Do you trust me, dearest?” “With my life,” she replied. 

About ten days after his departure, a wagon arrived at the 
ranch with a huge trunk, which the Mexican driver said was 
for Sofia. She had the trunk carried into her room; and she 
and her grandmother opened it, wondering what it could con- 
tain. Glossy silk dresses and all the other paraphernalia of a 
woman’s wardrobe so hard for a man to describe met their 
eyes, and among the dresses was one of white satin. There 
were ladies’ hats too and silk stockings, laces and lingerie. All 
the dresses had cards attached thereto with Sofia’s name save 
one black silk, which had the name of the grandmother. There 
is no true woman that does not love finery; and Sofia’s ar- 
tistic eye fairly gloated over the beautiful things she found. 
One paper box contained a white veil with artificial orange 
blossoms. 

Surprises were not at an end; and before the day had closed, 
a greater one occured, to explain which it will be necessary 
to go back somewhat in the narrative. Mrs. McDonald’s de- 
sire to visit Texas and see with her own eyes something of the 
life that her son had been leading recurred to her after his 
departure; and the idea of a stay in that wild country with 
him and of returning to Virginia with him in time for his ap- 
proaching marriage became so attractive to her that she de- 
termined to put it into execution. She was only fifty years of 
age and was a woman of remarkable vigor and self reliance. 


* 

> \> i 


- 22 - 


She wrote to him that she was coming, stating the date when 
she would start and desiring him to meet her in Brownsville. 
The delivery of the mails in the United States was not so 
prompt in those days anywhere as now, and especially was this 
the case in the out of way country on the Rio Grande. He did 
not receive the letter owing to the fact that, after he had at- 
tended to his business, and, when he returned, he hurried on 
to the ranch without calling for his mail. 

When Mrs. McDonald reached Brownsville and no one met 
her, she knew that her letter had not been received. She, 
therefore, hired a hack and proceeded to McDonald’s ranch. 

Thus it happened that, in the afternoon of the day when the 
trunk was delivered, a hack drove up to the ranch, and the 
astonished Sofia and her grandmother saw a tall well dressed 
white-headed lady descend and heard her give orders to the 
Mexican driver as to the disposal of her trunks. Mrs. Mc- 
Donald was no less astonished to be met at the door by one of 
the most beautiful women she had ever seen, who asked her 
pleasure in English with that indescribable Castilian accent. 
Sofia’s astonishment was increased when Mrs. McDonald stat- 
ed who she was, and enquired for her son. Hospitality is a 
highly developed trait in the Mexican character any way, but, 
as Sofia realized that the mother of McDonald stood before 
her, she hastened to afford her every attention. She took Mrs. 
McDonald into her own room, brought a glass of water from 
the “olla,” had her grandmother bring a bottle of wine with 
the inevitable cup of coffee, then offered her services to aid 
Mrs. McDonald in making a change of apparel. The neatness 
and good taste of everything in the room struck Mrs. McDon- 
ald and especially a case of books containing standard authors 
both English and Spanish. Sofia explained to Mrs. McDonald 
that she and her grandmother were McDonald’s housekeepers. 
Mrs. McDonald gazed curiously at the old woman with such 
piercing black eyes and with prominent cheek bones. It was 
the first time that she had come in contact with one so near 
the Indian type. At the evening meal, dishes appeared to 
which Mrs. McDonald was accustomed together with Mexican 
dishes that she had never tasted before, such as “blanquillas 
rancheras,” “chili con carne,” “enchiladas,” and “tortillas.” 
The “blanquillas rancheras,” eggs cooked in a peculiar style 
with onions, tasted delicious, but the “chili con carne,” meat 
stewed with red pepper, and the “enchiladas,” consisting of 
“tortillas” fried in “chili” gravy with cheese sprinkled there- 
on, were entirely too hot for her palate. The “tortillas,” those 


i 


—23 


thin cakes prepared from a flour made by pounding maize in 
a kind of stone mortar called a “metate” after the grains have 
been soaked in lye to remove the husks and then dried, were 
leathery and almost tasteless to her. She was charmed with 
Sofia’s vivacity and good sense as well as amused at her quaint 
pronunciation of English. When the evening meal was over 
and they were seated in the open, Mrs. McDonald directed the 
conversation to the books she had observed in Sofia's room; 
and was surprised to find that Sofia was acquainted with the 
English classics and could discuss them with taste and judg- 
ment. Something brought out the fact that Sofia could sing, 
and, at Mrs. McDonald’s request, Sofia sang “Sobre Las Olas,” 
“La Golondrina” and “La Paloma.’’ Though Mrs. McDonald 
could not understand the meaning of a word of these songs, 
Sofia’s wonderfully sweet voice and expression thrilled her. 
and when Sofia sang some of the old plantation melodies that 
Mrs. McDonald had loved from childhood, she warmly com- 
plimented her. “My son,” said she, “never mentioned to me 
that he had such agreeable and intelligent associates on his 
ranch. I do not wonder now that he was able to wait so long 
before visiting his old home; and I am sure that he will often 
think of his associates here when he returns to live in Vir- 
ginia.” It was too dark for Mrs. McDonald to see the pained 
expression in Sofia’s eyes that followed this remark, but she 
noticed that Sofia at once became pensive and that her replies 
to questions from that time till they retired for the night were 
the briefest possible. 

The next morning, however, Sofia had recovered her spirits, 
and explained her plans for entertaining Mrs. McDonald dur- 
ing the short time that would elapse before her son’s return. 
One of these was to drive along the “Old Military Road” in the 
bracing air of the morning. During this drive, Sofia showed 
Mrs. McDonald all the different varieties of cactus, trees and 
bushes peculiar to the country, giving their Spanish names. 
The huisache, a species of mimosa, with its feathery green 
leaves, the retama, which has bark as green as its leaves and 
which bears a profusion of yellow blossoms almost the year 
round, the agrita, a bush with leaves like the holly and which 
produces berries from which a delicious jelly is made, and 
the junco, that strange shrub which has dark green thorns in- 
stead of leaves and which is said to be the oldest woody fibre 
plant on the earth, especially interested Mrs. McDonald. 

The old grandmother with the children met them at the door 
on their return; and Sofia gathered the little ones in her arms 


murmuring words of endearment in Spanish. Hitherto Mrs. 
McDonald had seen only a glimpse of the children as they had 
been kept in the background since her arrival. “Such lovely 
children,” said she as she stopped and kissed them. “Does 
your husband work on the ranch too?” she inquired. “No,” 
answered Sofia. “Where does he stay then,” continued Mrs. 
McDonald in surprise. Sofia flushed to the roots of her glossy 
black hair as she replied with downcast eyes: “I have no hus- 
band.” Mrs. McDonald was inexpressibly shocked. But she 
was a lady, and, therefore, did not attempt to preach, but re- 
mained silent for a time. After a short interval, a look of 
compassion came into her dark brown eyes, so like McDonald’s 
own, as she gazed upon this beautiful young creature so pain- 
fully embarassed, and reflected upon her ruined life. Later, 
after some common-place questions to which Sofia returned 
brief replies, Mrs. McDonald enquired how long Sofia and her 
grandmother had been working on the ranch. “Five Years,” 
was the answer. For a moment a shadow^ of suspicion crossed 
Mrs. McDonald’s mind, which she dismissed at once as un- 
worthy of herself as well as of her son. The suspicion recurred 
in spite of her when she observed the brown eyes and features 
of the baby girl so like those of a babe she had held in her 
own arms twenty-eight years before. But she dismissed it 
again. Her son and the son of a man that laid down his life 
for his country at the “bloody angle” at Spottsylvania was 
incapable of ruining the life of a young girl. 

Sofia’s manner was very subdued the balance of the after- 
noon and she seemed to avoid Mrs. McDonald’s society as 
much as possible. Before the evening meal, a Mexican mes- 
senger came with a note for Sofia, which she took to her own 
room to read the moment she noticed that it was in Mc- 
Donald’s handwriting. Mrs. McDonald heard an inarticulate 
cry from the room; and almost immediately Sofia reappeared 
to announce that McDonald would return the following even- 
ing. Her face was radiant as she made the announcement, and 
again the cruel suspicion tore at the mother’s heart. When the 
evening meal was over, there was a bustle of coming and going 
between the ranch house and the “Jacales” of the employes; 
and messengers seemed to be sent out. Sofia excused herself 
and grandmother, and Mrs. McDonald went to sleep hearing 
the hum of a low conversation carried on between Sofia and 
her grandmother in the adjoining room. 

The next day was a very busy one on the ranch. Mexican 
men were continually coming and going. Several of the women 


— 25 — 


came to the ranch house from the “Jacales” to assist in cook- 
ing operations which were being conducted evidently upon a 
large scale both at the ranch house and in the “Jacales.” A 
beef was slaughtered and numbers of goats and fowls. Sofia 
explained to Mrs. McDonald that they were preparing a “fiesta” 
in honor of McDonald’s return, and begged to be excused on 
account of there being so many matters needing her attention. 
Mrs. McDonald diverted herself with a book while the busy 
preparations were going on. Sofia ate scarcely anything at 
either the morning or noon meal; but Mrs. McDonald noticed 
with sinking heart that the radiance never left her face. 
Toward nightfall a long table improvised of boards out in the 
open was loaded with cooked food consisting of beef, goat- 
meat, fowls and all the dishes that Mexicans love; and posts 
had been placed at proper intervals for torches. A space was 
cleared and swept on the ground and torches prepared for a 
“baile.” The musicians could be heard tuning their instru- 
ments. All the “pelaclos” and their families had arrayed them- 
selves in their gala attire; and scarlet and crimson were in 
evidence everywhere. Sofia had long before retired to her 
room with her children; and only the grandmother and one of 
the women on the ranch were admitted. Finally the grand- 
mother came out robed in her black silk and with a black 
lace mantilla covering her head and shoulders. The old 
woman was evidently excited; and addressed a few broken 
words in English to Mrs. McDonald; but the latter could 
make neither head nor tail of their meaning. 

The rattle of a vehicle in the distance was the signal for 
a general stop in the hum of conversation in the crowd of 
“pelados” that had gathered; and they waited in silent ex- 
pectancy until a hack drove up and Mr. McDonald and two 
other men, one in a cassock, alighted. Then a storm of “Viva 
don Alejandro” broke from the crowd, and there was a frantic 
waving of hats by the men and of handkerchiefs by the women. 
McDonald and his two companions came straight into the 
house. The sight of his mother was quite a surprise to him. 
After they had embraced and she had explained, he said: “All 
that I needed to fill my cup of joy was to have my mother 
present on the happiest day of my life; and now you are here> 
mother. I am so glad that you came.” “How the happiest 
day of your life, Aleck?” she enquired; “I do not understand.” 
“You will understand within a few minutes, mother,” he re- 
plied as he passed into a back room. He had already intro- 
duced his companions, one as Father Antonio, a dark smooth- 


26 


shaved elderly man, and the other as Mr. Carson, blue-eyed 
and light-haired, a typical American professional man. The 
former, whose dark eyes beamed with benignancy, at once 
opened up a conversation with Mrs. McDonald, speaking in 
perfect English. Mrs. McDonald with all her prejudice against 
Catholic priests, could not help being attracted by his agreeable 
manner and evident polish. Mr. Carson was very laconic in 
his remarks and appeared to be noticing everything with 
curious eyes. 

When McDonald again appeared, he was clothed, strange 
to relate in that country and in that time, in faultless evening 
dress. The old grandmother spoke a few words to him in 
Spanish, and led him into Sofia’s room. The door remained 
closed for a few moments while everyone became silent. When 
the door reopened, McDonald came out with Sofia on his arm 
followed by the grandmother leading the little Juan and 
carrying the baby girl. Sofia was at all times goodly to look 
upon, but, as she moved forward with her inimitable grace 
clothed in white satin with a wreath of orange blossoms upon 
her black hair and with jewels sparkling upon a neck such as 
a sculptor dreams of, her beauty was simply dazzling. Her 
rosy lips were slightly parted showing a glimpse of her 
pearly white teeth, and her glorious eyes shone like stars. 
The marriage ceremony was soon over, the grandmother and 
Mr. Carson acting as “padrinos.” The moment that Father 
Antonio had pronounced them man and wife, McDonald com- 
menced speaking in a firm voice as the grandmother brought 
forward the two little ones. “These are my children,” said 
he, “I desire to acknowledge them as such before all; and Mr. 
Carson, the notary, has drawn a document to this effect, 
which I shall sign, and I wish the others present to sign as 
witnesses.” Then turning his eyes upon the woman beside 
him, he continued in a voice that began to shake; “This 
woman is as pure in heart as an angel in heaven. I have 
wronged her deeply; and it is my purpose to do all in my power 
to repair the wrong and to make her life a happy one from 
this time on. Sofia, dearest woman to me in all the world, do 
you forgive me?” Tears came into his eyes as he spoke these 
words. They were too much for Sofia’s gentle heart to bear. 
She broke into passionate weeping, threw her arms about his 
neck, and dropping, as all do under the influence of strong 
feeling, into the vernacular of her childhood, cried: “No, vidita 
mia, no me has hecho mal nunca; eres el hombre mas noble y 
bueno del mundo.” “No, my very life, thou hast never wronged 


- — 27 


me; thou art the noblest and best man in the world.” Things 
were growing electric. The old grandmother was already cry- 
ing gently, and mists were in the eyes of the priest and notary. 
Mrs. McDonald had been almost in a state of stupefaction from 
what had occurred. She had witnessed the wreck of the fond- 
est hopes she had for the future of her only son; she had been 
shocked by the disclosure of his relations with Sofia; and her 
Calvinistic creed had been even worse shocked at hearing him 
promise that his children should be trained in the Roman 
faith while the ceremony was being performed by one whom 
she regarded as a minion of Antichrist. But the absolute de- 
votion of Sofia to her loved son as well as the deep love he had 
shown for Sofia touched her. Last of all the looks of the two 
little innocents, her grandchildren, were tugging at her moth- 
erly heart. When the burst came from Sofia, though Mrs. Mc- 
Donald could not understand the words, it cannot be wondered 
that this proud Virginia lady was swept from her self poise. 
She gathered Sofia in her arms; and said: “You are my daugh- 
ter now, and I shall love you and these little ones, my grand- 
children.” The kind hearted priest at this, involuntarily raised 
his hands in benediction and said in Spanish: “God bless you 
my children.” 

As soon as the document had been signed and had been cer- 
tified and sealed by the notary, McDonald, with Sofia on his 
arm, led the way to the table out of doors. The crowd had 
gathered around the door, and when McDonald and Sofia ap- 
peared in the doorway, a cry again broke forth from the 
crowd. But this time it was “Vivan don Alejandro y dona 
Sofia.” The crowd did not stop at this. For all to shake hands 
with McDonald and Sofia would have been the natural thing 
with Anglo-Saxons. But this was too cold a way for the hot 
Southern blood of these people. McDonald had to be em- 
braced by all the men; and Sofia received the like attention 
from the females. 

It was in the “wee small hours” of the morning before the 
music died away at the “baile.” But fatigue is hardly felt 
when joy is supreme. Even Mrs. McDonald failed to realize 
that she needed sleep, so absorbed was she in her talk with 
her son and newly made daughter. 

This tale might stop here. Sofia had won. Or shall we not 
rather say love had won? May we not hope that everything 
merely conventional, .everything insincere, everything selfish 
and everything sordid are only temporal and shall pass away 
but that love is eternal and shall finally fill the earth? 


28 — 


But the author cannot forbear to add that McDonald was 
mistaken when he supposed that his marriage with Sofia 
would doom him to banishment from his relatives, friends and 
associates in his old Virginia home. Mrs. McDonald spent the 
winter at the ranch, and every day increased her fondness for 
Sofia and the children. And what is more, Sofia’s intelligence 
and spirit were such that, joined with her beauty, they caused 
Mrs. McDonald to become actually proud of her daughter-in- 
law. Before leaving for Virginia, Mrs. McDonald had announc- 
ed her desire to have McDonald, Sofia, and the children spend 
the summer with her there, and would hear nothing to the 
contrary. When McDonald objected that it might subject them 
to humiliation, she bridled up. Was not her family as old and 
as good as any in Virginia? Who would dare to slight her son 
and his wife? McDonald resisted her entreaties for two years. 
He could not bear the thought of risking a wound to the gen- 
tle heart of Sofia. But when his two sisters had spent a win- 
ter on the ranch, and had become almost as fond of Sofia as 
his mother; and when she, who had formerly been Helen Mon- 
tague, and her husband joined in a most cordial invitation to 
him and his wife to visit them, he decided to take the risk. 
Before marrying Sofia., he had written to Miss Montague. It 
was a manly letter, and he did not spare himself. The case 
was a clear case of breach of promise as any lawyer will 
know. But Virginia ladies do not prosecute breach of promise 
suits. When the cold proud beauty read the letter, in which 
he dwelt upon Sofia’s helplessness and devotion and empha- 
sized his own baseness and treachery, a misty softness came 
into her ordinarily steely blue eyes, and she closed the letter 
with a sigh. She was nearer loving him then than she had 
ever been before. Later she had married a Virginia gentleman 
in every way worthy of her, and was leading a happy life. It was 
not difficult for Mrs. McDonald to enlist her as an ally. So, 
when McDonald and his wife were received with joy, not only 
by his mother and sisters, but were entertained with distinc- 
tion by Henry Lennox and his proud wife, every door stood 
open in welcome notwithstanding the fact that vague rumors 
had reached that country of the real truth just as such rum- 
ors almost always do. And Sofia’s grace and beauty and above 
all her gentle loving nature captured them all by storm. Be- 
fore their return to the Rio Grande, McDonald’s beautiful 
“Spanish” wife, as she was called, had become the rage in the 
Piedmont section of Virginia. But Sofia’s head was not turned 
by the attentions she received. She was restless and uneasy 
about her poor old grandmother, who had been left behind at 


■ — 29 — 


her own request it is true, but who, she knew, was pining for 
the presence of her and the children, the only ones in the 
world that the old woman lived for. 

Sofia could never be persuaded to leave her grandmother 
again. But after the old woman had passed away, it became 
the custom of McDonald, his wife and their children, and these 
were now many, to spend their summers in the Piedmont just 
as it was the custom of their Virginia relatives to pass the 
winters in the mild balmy climate of the Rio Grande. 

And now, when McDonald’s head is white and there are 
streaks of gray even among the once so glossy tresses of Sofia, 
as they sit in the open in the gloaming watching their grand- 
children play, the old man’s hand steals into that of the wo- 
man, who has made his life so happy; and her eyes again shine 
like stars as they did of yore, for love never grows old. 

EDMUND LINDEN, 
































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